Wild West
by Zafona
Summary: Castiel has tended the same bar since he was small, taken after his father and spent his life there. He's heard wild stories of the infamous Winchester brothers, he's pleasured himself to the thought of rough hands and a bad attitude. But meeting the legend is different, Dean Winchester isn't what stories say and Castiel thinks he prefers it this way. Destiel Cowboys short story
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

**After all the DallasCon stuff with Misha in a cowboy hat and all that people have been asking for cowboy AU's left and right. Someone, ChickieG, has so graciously complimented me by saying that I do AU's better than anyone. Now, while I know I am not the best I will certain take her compliment as a cue to write a short story. There will be a few chapters to this probably as I find the time to write it. But here you are chickie, my little version of Destiel cowboys.**

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Past high noon and the room was dead silent. Castiel picked up another glass and started to wipe it, a habit he'd gotten into after his father, if you have nothing to do at least _look_ busy. Better for business. He looked around the bar with little interest, he wasn't even sure why he was open half the times that weren't past working hours. Of course that's when his one employee would come in, he'd pay her for her time and get his chance to relax. He didn't so much care for the busier hours of the evenings, he knew why the doors were open so early in the day – and it wasn't for the still drunken losers chilling out on their bar chairs. Castiel loved the wandering cowboy, the adventurer who'd just ride into town and need a drink no matter the time of day. He loved travellers, really. Their stories were amazing and he could get drunk off of just hearing of all the amazing things people did.

But a cowboy with a good story? That was worth a second glance, maybe even a little more than that. Cas smiled to himself, his heart pounding in his chest as he put the cup down and grabbed the next. Gorgeous, chiseled men with that walk, the one always present in a man who rode a horse for too many hours each day. It drove him mad, Cas bit at his lower lip, his mind wandering so far into the pornographic someone might attempt to throw a whole priest at him.

Rough hands trailing down his skin, touching him in ways he shouldn't want but burns for. He rolls his shoulders and cracks his neck, where he is isn't nearly the time or the place for those kinds of thoughts, he can't exactly dip into the back and take care of an oncoming problem. No, Castiel tells himself, over and over he says no but his mind is just screaming _yes._ He wants that cowboy from his dreams, the one that takes him out of that boring town, takes him travelling, hell, Cas would settle for being fucking kidnapped. Whatever, as long as someone somewhere had a reason for him to finally leave.

And then he heard voices outside the door, ones he didn't recognize and ones he wasn't sure belonged to old men. _'Probably merchants…'_ He thought miserably, he hated talking to merchants. That goddamn Crowley always had something to say, whether it was helpful or not, and he always tried to 'cure Castiel's itch' so to speak. It was enough to tide him over, he supposed, but there had to be other men in the world that wanted to do it, to touch another man. Ones that weren't as gremlin-like and a little more bowlegged.

The doors swung open and Castiel looked up out of instinct. He dropped the glass onto the counter, luckily for him it landed upright and he was able to just push it into place like he'd meant to do that. There were two of them and though Cas could scan them both over his eyes were stuck on the shorter one. A dark cowboy hat atop his head, the clothes fit the persona with several layers looking dusty, a dark brown vest on top of a button-up shirt tucked into his pants. He had the boots, worn and torn but gleaming from the metal spurs and buckles. The two walked toward the bar after giving the place a good once over and Castiel's knees nearly buckled; _that walk._ He had the walk, he had the legs, he- he… Castiel's brain stuttered as he stared at the beautiful green eyes coming up to meet his, the hat tipped back slightly to reveal more of a face. And damn what a pretty face. Freckles speckled across the gorgeous canvas of tanned skin and a suddenly bright, shining smile.

"Afternoon," The stranger said and Cas almost lost himself in the deep, smooth voice.

"Good afternoon," He replied, hoping no lust had seeped from his imagination into his words. "You two are new, what brings you to Pontiac?"

"Passin' through, mostly." The beautiful stranger, object of Castiel's new fantasies, pulled up the closest stool across from him and continued to grin. That was okay by Cas, if he wanted to smile it was more than a welcomed sight in that dreary place. "Whataya got?"

"The whiskey's pretty good,"

"One of those and a sarsaparilla for my brother here."

So the big one was his brother, not a lover or partner. Excellent. "Coming right up, gentlemen." He turned his back and heard a thump and an 'ow' but nothing more than that. He figured the larger one was probably angry about the drink ordered for him, not that Castiel really cared. Cowboys could drink whatever they wanted. "You two stayin' for a while?" He asked as he poured the liquor.

"Thinkin' about it, what's going on in town?" The shorter one did most of the talking, that was good, Cas liked hearing his voice. The more he heard now the more he could pretend it was being whispered in his ears later.

"Nothing new, we have a big trader coming in soon, there's our usual outlaw problem, and I heard that in a few towns over someone spotted the Winchesters, might be headed this way." Cas wasn't sure what he should all explain to them, he was hoping they'd stay for the trader at least.

"Winchesters coming this way, huh? What do you know about 'em?" That voice was starting to burn all throughout Castiel's body, he could feel it on his thighs goddamn it.

"Well last night someone told me he'd seen them a couple days back," Castiel put their drinks down and leaned a little on the counter, hoping maybe he looked good enough to try a taste. Or kidnap, whichever. "But he was pretty smashed so I'm not so sure. Regardless, there's rumour they burned a saloon down."

"Yeah," The other one spoke up this time after a sip of his drink, he sounded pretty good too, actually. Smooth, younger even. Still, up close he was kinda pretty too. Cas could go for that, but he was really itching for some stubble against his skin. "The Winchesters have a bad reputation, so I've heard anyway."

"Well they're considered the most frightening brothers on horseback, and what with Dean riding his black stallion, Impala, and Sam on his mare Chevy, they're too fast to catch. Those horses are supposedly the best ever bred, and their riders are stronger than ten men." Castiel could recount stories of the Winchester brothers all day and night if he were given the time. They were vicious, wild, they could do anything they wanted to and they _did_. "Though for their infamy I have never seen a picture." He lamented out loud, his intentions too deeply carved into his sleeve for them not to have noticed he was a fan.

"You like them?" The shorter one asked curiously, his tone was hard to decipher.

"Yes. I love hearing about their stories." Cas nodded quickly, hoping that maybe he had at least some sex appeal left, fanning over a strange cowboy to another strange cowboy wasn't exactly his best pick up line.

The taller one scoffed softly, "I doubt you'd find them all that interesting if you met them."

"I disagree," Castiel turned to him, "Stories are always blown out of proportion, I hear enough of them to know that. But the consistency of the Winchesters' stories are amazing, they have the best adventures and they end up in the wildest situations. I wish I could do half the things they do, or even just see it."

The shorter one raised an eyebrow at him with a half smirk, "So who are you?"

"Castiel Novak, I'm the resident barkeep. Mind if I ask who you two are?"

The two shared a look, the taller one shaking his head just in the slightest and Castiel expected a lie. But instead he had his mind blown.

"I'm Dean, this is my little brother Sam." Dean smiled at him again, pearly white teeth gleaming in the dimly lit room. Castiel could have sworn his legs were going to melt through the floor. This was Dean Winchester, this hot, thigh burning man was Dean freaking Winchester. Cas could have swooned right there, in fact he probably did.

"You're… you're kidding me." He gawked, the words barely coming out. "You two?"

"Hard to believe? You heard we were on our way this direction." Sam cocked an eyebrow at him and Cas bit his lip.

"I… It's just… you're legends. You two are unbelievable, how are you even right in front of me?" He wanted to stop talking, he really did, but what do you do when you meet an idol or a celebrity? Especially ones you fantasize about before bed? "I had no idea you two were so young, or cute, I mean not cute, I mean attractive but not in a cute way, I mean-"

"Shh," Dean put a finger to his lips and his heart nearly stopped beating. "Thank you for the compliment, Cas." Yep, it had stopped beating. Dean Winchester used his name. "So what makes you such a big fan? Most people hate us."

"I love the stories, believe it or not life as a bartender in a small town gets boring." Castiel fidgeted and picked up the bar rag to clean a little. That ought to keep his hands a bit busy.

"Why do you stay?"

"Why do I… stay?" Cas looked at him in slight confusion, like the question made no sense though it really made plenty. "Have you looked at me? I don't think I'd last a day out there."

Dean looked him over thoughtfully, eyes dragging up his form and making him feel hotter under the collar. "Yeah, I looked at ya…" He trailed off and looked Castiel in the eye again, no hint of a joke in his face. "What would you do if you could last more than a day out there?"

Cas knew he could go on for hours, it was why people in the town didn't ask him that kind of question. "Oh here we go, dreamer Cas all over again." One of the half drunk regulars pined from the corner of the bar, rolling his whole head instead of just his eyes. Castiel felt his face flush and he turned his gaze away.

Dean threw his mug at the drunk, knocking him back hard. "Shut up, you old fuck! I'm talkin' to the bartender here, not you."

Cas looked at Dean a little more earnestly, was this really the bad boy he'd heard so much about? What a kind thing for a hard-lined cowboy to do for him, especially after he'd fawned so badly over him. "I'd go on an adventure," Cas said quietly, his eyes fixed on the same old wooden bar that he'd been spending his life tending. "I'd leave my dad's stupid legacy behind me, put on the boots and the hat and just… go. I'd just go somewhere, anywhere."

Dean nodded without a word and finished off his whiskey, he put the glass down and ran his finger over the rim. "What'd you hear about the bar burning down?"

"I heard you two didn't like it much and set some dynamite." Cas furrowed his brow, "Did you really?"

"No, of course not." Dean snorted and looked over at Sam who tried to tip his hat a little further down. "There was a big fight that broke out over some money, a guy lost his cigar and we all discovered that the barkeep was keeping TNT under the floorboards."

Sam's shoulders were shaking as he tried not to laugh, "The look on your face, Dean, was so fucking funny."

"There was a weird sizzling, okay!?" Dean snapped defensively, "Your eyes bugged out too!"

"Not as bad as yours, at least I found the source of it." Sam chided playfully.

Castiel started to chuckle and both Winchesters looked at him, "Seriously?" He covered his mouth, unable to stop the laughter from bubbling up in him, "You two are the scariest cowboys in the west? The ruthless, reckless, unbeatable Winchester brothers are… actually funny?"

Dean stopped and looked at Castiel for a moment, it made him feel nervous inside but he couldn't stop giggling at them. This was not what he'd pictured, he'd imagined something terrifying, someone huge like Sam, but mean. Dark eyes, angry smiles, large hands, but these two? Yeah sure, they had some big hands but no bigger than his own. Cas wiped a tear from his eye and shook his head, "I think hearing the stories from your point of view might ruin the magic."

"Should we shut up?" Dean grinned wide and Castiel shook his head.

"No, please, I'd love to hear how things really happened." Cas leaned on the counter across from Dean, their faces so much closer but he didn't notice so much. He was in 'intrigued listening' mode, which meant getting closer to really hear them. Dean was somewhat taken aback by how easily he'd slipped into his space, but that passed and soon the cowboy started talking.

They lost time that way, Sam had been part of the conversation for most of the day but he'd gotten tired once the sky had started to change from blue to a sunset hue. Castiel gave him keys to a room upstairs and let Sam go, Dean on the other hand seemed far too interested in the bartender and their conversations to stop any time soon. And when Castiel's relief showed up, his employee took over the bar and serving drinks as she always did, he slipped across the bar and sat beside Dean instead of across from him.

"You're really sweet," Cas found himself saying after a whiskey or two of his own. Dean had only had maybe two over the course of his time in the joint but he'd started to pick up the drinking pace once Castiel joined him. "I'm surprised, I always imagined you so vicious."

"Disappointed?" Dean cocked a smirk his way and Castiel tried to will the blush out of his cheeks.

"Not at all, I'm actually impressed. You're somethin' else, Mr. Winchester."

"Don't call me that," Dean finished a third whiskey and put the glass down like he'd done each other time.

"Dean, then?"

"Well, if you wanted," Dean glanced around the room and leaned over to Castiel's ear, his breath warm and smelling of alcohol, _"you could scream it, for me."_

Cas' body was on fire, his mouth dry and lips parted in a soft gasp. He'd been with other men, it was a dirty, awful secret he repented for it because of the town, the smallness and confining nature of it. But Dean's very presence yearned to set it free, break him out of that cage and spread him open. Castiel wanted to, more than anything and almost enough to do it right in front of the saloon full of rough working men. But he didn't, instead Cas smiled and gently turned his head to let his lips graze past Dean's earlobe. "Make me." He growled.

Like a shot they were off, Dean grabbed him roughly by the arm and hauled him toward the back. Castiel could hear his heartbeat in his ears and it only escalated in speed the further away they were from the drinkers and townsfolk. He was certain that he'd fallen into a fantasy, that he'd drank too much, passed out and dreaming on the floor about this beautiful cowboy that swooped in and pulled him away from prying eyes. This stranger, with angel kissed skin and rough hands pushing him against a wall, Cas' legs shook and the corners of his mouth tugged up in a smile. This was heaven, and if it wasn't then he couldn't wait to get there. Or burn for the sin of enjoying another man's body, and in fact he thought it was more of a sin to _not_ enjoy Dean Winchester's body. Because when that man threw his shirt down, all of that muscle shifting and pulling under reddened flesh from a blush, Castiel was certain it was an angel that he'd about to be handled by.

"Fuck," Dean hissed when Castiel found the courage to move again, his hips rolled forward, the front of their pants brushing and sending shivers through both of them. Cas had felt it, he could see the stretch of Dean's trousers and he wanted to see everything beneath them. He licked his lips and started attempting to unbutton his shirt, Dean reached up and tore it off him, impatient and hot and ready. Cas gasped at the touch of Dean's fingers, caressing over his chest and pinching at the hardening nubs of his nipples.

"Ohhhh Dean…" he sighed and ran his hands through the surprisingly soft mess of brown hair, knocking the cowboy hat down. He curled his bottom lip into his mouth to bite it, looking over Dean's face as that flush spread over his cheeks and darkened the lust in his eyes. He wanted to tell Dean how beautiful he looked, parted lips and panting as their bodies slid together, pants coming undone and dropping to their ankles. Cas wanted to tell him how badly he had wanted to take Dean Winchester to bed, to be pressed against a wall and slammed hard. He wanted to tell Dean how that had changed in the span of a few hours, how he wanted the sweet kisses and strong but gentle touch of a loving man. Adventure was exciting, he didn't have to be treated like a rag doll to get that kind of feeling. He could be loved, cherished and handled sweetly but also get that rush of adrenaline he wanted. He wanted to tell Dean he didn't want to be a dirty after thought. But Castiel didn't have the words, he could only whine and breathe heavier as Dean unraveled him.

Dean's hands slipped along the dip in his lower back, smoothing over the swell of his ass and giving a good squeeze. Cas lifted a leg and hooked it around Dean's waist, he could feel the warmth and stiffness of the other man's cock against his groin. It was pleasant, wanted and so long overdue. He took them both in his hand as Dean explored his body, neither of them had the presence of mind to hush themselves as the heat boiled through them. Dean's head came forward and rested on Castiel's shoulder, breath hot against the nape of his neck as they thrusted shallowly into his pumping hand.

Castiel wanted to feel more of Dean, wished that there were more intimate ways to know him than any way already invented. In his imagination he'd never gotten past the idea that this was another man, that this wasn't just some faceless person who could provide a rush of excitement and vanish in a night. Dean Winchester was soft under the persona, Castiel realized as the cowboy whimpered quietly into his skin. It was the sweetest little sound and Cas wasn't sure he'd ever forget it.

The movement got more frantic as Castiel stroked them together, his hands memorizing each ridge of Dean's cock, the pulsing vein and how he moaned a certain way when Cas twisted his wrist just in the slightest. Dean bucked up into his hand now and Castiel found the outlaw's fingers coming up to his mouth. "Get 'em wet," Dean instructed quietly and Cas couldn't resist. He reached up, gently holding Dean's wrist as he sucked the man's fingers into his mouth. It was a different taste to be sure, he liked it much better than any other man he'd ever been with and he was certain nothing could compare to Dean Winchester.

"That's it baby," Dean grunted, Cas knew he was trying to keep composure, his cock was already leaking just as the rough hand job he'd been getting. How long had this cowboy been going without the touch of another person? Cas could only guess but he was a little too busy to really get into that train of thought.

Cas moaned around Dean's fingers and let them go, "Do it," he breathed the words as Dean was already taking care of it. A hot pressure pushed at his hole and Castiel's breath hitched up into a tight squeak, "Oh! Ahhfffuck…" He found curses so easy to spill in such a sinful place, and it tasted so good on his tongue.

"You like this?" Dean goaded him on, pushing his finger in deeper and swirling it around, easing Castiel open.

"Ah… ahh-I've… I've dreamt about this." Cas heard himself saying through gasps and groans of pleasure. It burned his cheeks with embarrassment but he didn't stop talking. "I wanted you."

Dean kissed his neck, a hot, wet mark etched into his skin and fleeting. "You did?"

"Y-yes."

"How often?"

Castiel looked at him with hazy eyes, glossy and a little confused. "How often?"

"How often did you fuck yourself thinking about me?"

Cas moaned louder, he loved the way Dean talked. It was better than any fantasy he'd ever been able to make up. "Every week," he confessed in a fluster, "Almost every day."

Dean sighed heavily into his neck, leaving several little kisses on his skin. Cas shuddered and wriggled down on the second finger that entered him. It hurt but he was getting used to it. "I want you to… I want you." He could have sworn that was his begging voice.

Dean lifted his fingers free after a little bit longer and nodded, Castiel felt it was enough, he was open and ready enough. "Okay, but you'll have to slick me up. On your knees, pretty boy."

Castiel slipped down the wall immediately, his hands finding purchase in Dean's hips and holding strong as he came eye level with an impressive length. It was thick, swollen and bobbing, eagerly he took it into his mouth. Cas would like to say he was impressive and outstanding at everything he did but he was a little too excited. He choked when he tried to push it too far back and though he expected a coarse comment or slap in the head for being a turn off, Dean's hands buried into his hair and held tight. Cas sighed around the other man's dick, his tongue swirling around and trying to dampen it. He was salivating at the thought of this man's cock, tasting Dean had drool and pre-cum slipping down his chin.

Dean grunted and pulled at him, not hard or painful just a suggestion and Castiel let him go. "That's enough, that's good." Dean's words, Cas understood them as 'I'm gonna come soon.' Castiel didn't know what would happen next, how they'd do it the first time, maybe the only time he didn't know. But Dean put that worry to rest almost immediately, he took all of Castiel's weight and hefted him up against the wall. Cas could feel Dean's fingers digging into the heft of his thighs, he tried to help by wrapping his legs around the cowboy's waist. It seemed to be enough for Dean to let go with one hand, Castiel leaned back and put as much of his weight there as he could, bracing himself and waiting for the inevitable burn.

The blunt head of Dean's cock pushed at him and though Cas was tense at first he exhaled, relaxed his body like he'd done so many times before, and slipped around his fantasy's dick like a pro. They both sighed and groaned at the feeling, Castiel thought he'd lose his mind but Dean held him still, shivering and waiting for the pain to subside. "I'm gonna move," Dean whispered to him and Cas was certain his heart would melt through his ribcage. "You good?"

"Yeah," Cas replied huskily, "Yes, I'm okay." And Dean moved, his hips shifting up and rolling into him, pushing deeper and penetrating everything he thought had ever been good in the past. This was better.

"God," Dean gasped and rested his forehead against Castiel's as they slowly got used to the intimacy, "Cas, you're so fucking pretty."

Those words. It was the first time Cas had ever heard them in a sentence like that, directed at him. "You think so?" He mumbled through escaping breaths, eyes flicking up to look at speckled green.

"I'm a bad liar." Dean grinned and they both huffed a laugh, Cas felt like his legs were slipping but Dean adjusted them just fine. Something Castiel had never done on his escapades of wrong and sinful homosexual sex was the same something he didn't intend to stop doing right then; he leaned forward just a little and kissed Dean's lips. It was quick and soft and Castiel hadn't expected the outlaw's mouth to be so gentle, but it was. And Dean returned it, deepening it and prying his lips apart with the strength of a tongue Cas hadn't expected to taste.

Cas moaned into the kiss as Dean started thrusting again, hips slamming up and slapping against skin. It was a little rough but Cas didn't notice anymore, pleasure drowned out the pain and he was seeing white. His legs tightened around Dean's torso, heels digging in just the slightest, possessive way Cas could do it. He couldn't read Dean's mind but if the sounds of strangled whimpers were anything to go by the cowboy loved it too. "You're beautiful," he heard himself say and it was okay this time, because Dean had called him pretty.

Dean grinned and kissed him again, silencing his words but not his increasingly loud groans. Cas was living every dream he'd ever had right there, and he wasn't even mentally present to memorize each little thing. His mind was drunk on lust, love, and liquor. Three 'L' words to ruin his life but also make it more worth living than anything else ever could. So why let the length of time he'd spent with the other man hinder him? Why destroy the moment with a word that meant nothing more than the four letters used to spell it? Castiel loved Dean Winchester, always had even after the first story, but that didn't mean he had to say it out loud. That would be _his_ little secret.

Dean's hips stuttered and his breath hitched, Cas could feel a hot, wet mess inside him and knew he'd been too much for the cowboy. Dean was slowly trying to catch his breath, in the meantime Cas reached for himself and tried to finish it the rest of the way, he was almost there. He moaned and jerked his hips upward, licking his lips and closing his eyes. He'd just quickly imagine something, like Dean, the way his face twisted before coming, the soft mewling noises he made, and how cute it was that Cas had outlasted him. Of course that didn't last very long, Dean pulled out of him and stuck a couple fingers inside to get a bit of lubrication from his own cum. Dean's hand, hot and slick now, wrapped around Castiel's dick and started a firm but rhythmic stroke.

Cas' forehead pinched and creased as his mouth dropped open, head pushing back against the wall. "Dean, oohhh Dean!" he cried out and didn't care who heard. What if he were run out of town for this? Maybe that was a good thing.

"That's it baby, fuck yourself in my hand." Dean's voice was low and a little choked but still so warm. Cas hadn't realized how badly he'd wanted to feel that, his hips were jerking up into Dean like hadn't been touched in ages. And the last time someone else touched his dick was… when exactly? He didn't know, it was always his ass that was filled – it's not gay if you don't touch the man's dick.

Cas heard himself crying out, louder and louder, his own hands attempted to cover his mouth but they slipped. His body was holding onto that orgasm, letting drip down slowly and torturously until he was a writhing, screaming mess. Dean was so strong and patient with him, each time he came close to an edge and slipped back Dean found a new way to touch him, just slightly different but still enough to drive him crazy. His toes curled and his back arched, by now he was in Dean's lap on the floor in the hallway, face curled against the heat of Dean's abdomen.

"Fucking gorgeous," Dean breathed so softly Cas scarcely heard it, but it rang in his ears like a bell. Castiel's climax was loud at first but grew softer almost instantly. He whimpered Dean's name over and over, twitching and spazzing in Dean's arms until he was held perfectly still. Cas couldn't catch his breath for several moments, panting heavily and sweating. Dean's hand passed his face, he caught a glimpse of just how much he'd come, it looked like a lot and felt like more. His thighs were a little wet and his stomach had gotten a bit of a spray as well. Castiel felt a flush of embarrassment in his cheeks but he didn't care for very long, he looked up to see the cowboy licking his fingers like he'd just had a Thanksgiving dinner.

"Dean," he whispered again and let his head drop, exhaling heavily and just laying there. If it were a dream he never wanted to wake up from it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:**

**Sorry for the late updates guys, work and school has run me down. Also my wrists have been hurting again so writing is slow going. I'm trying, okay? Don't leave :(**

**Please leave a review and let me know what you thought, it means a lot.**

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Dean opened his eyes to see that mess of dark hair that had caught his attention so strongly the night before. Castiel, that lonely, bored barkeeper with the gorgeous blue eyes and beautiful face was tucked in close to him like a little angel. Dean had had many lays over the years; most of them women but once in a while a guy would catch his eye. Once in a while but he'd never act on it, or at least he hadn't thought so. This one was different; Castiel was new and fuck if he wasn't hot. Dean ran his hand gently through Cas' hair; it was soft and taken care of despite the town's rough conditions. Where had this one been hiding for so long?

A light knock at the door brought Dean out of his thoughts and he looked up when it creaked open. Sam peered inside and gave a short wave, "Dean, we should get going." He whispered, making a point to not say anything about the scene before him. "The whole town's gotta know we're here already, the Sheriff's not going to leave us alone especially since a big caravan's coming."

"I get it," Dean hissed back, trying to keep it low, he didn't want to disturb Castiel. The poor thing fell asleep on him in the hall the previous night, he'd had to carry Cas to the bedroom which was an ordeal since he didn't exactly know which one was which. "I'll be right up."

Sam nodded and disappeared, the click of the door following him out. Dean sighed and scratched his head, while disappearing before his partner of the evening woke was his usual style he didn't want to leave Castiel without saying something. Dean slowly started to climb out of the bed, his gaze fell back on Cas' peaceful face, so content and restful, it looked like he hadn't slept so well in ages. _'I can't wake him up… Maybe a note?'_ He thought, scanning his immediate area for something to write with. No such luck, of course. Those things weren't always common and why would Cas have it in his bedroom anyway?

Dean managed to get out of the bed without disturbing Castiel much at all, "Guess I'll have to come back," he whispered in his ear, kissed Cas' cheek softly as an exiting action and slipped out the door. He fell in stride with Sam, their hats lowered as they untied their horses respectfully, "So what now? I don't wanna go just yet."

Sam looked at him curiously and shrugged, "Uh… I guess we could wait until the caravan excitement dies down? Why do you want to stay?"

"Well we need some supplies and uh… I…" he couldn't come up with a good answer and he knew, just by seeing the expression change in Sam's face that it was obvious on his own what he wanted.

"You like that-"

"Shut up, I do not." Dean snapped and hopped up onto Impala, "Let's go."

"We can come back later tonight if that'll make you feel better." Sam grinned as Chevy caught up to the stallion, his eyes fixed on Dean in that annoying little brother kind of way.

"I said shut it, Sammy."

"Alright, alright."

They moseyed on out of town, Dean was quiet but his mind was far from it. He couldn't stop thinking about Castiel's pretty face, his lips parting and hot air rushing between them. Castiel's body, how he moved, slipped down to his knees in front of Dean, it was driving him crazy. Why had that been so good? Cas wasn't anyone special; it wasn't like Cas had made him come first or anything. It wasn't as though Cas was the first guy he'd decided to sleep with. And Cas certainly wasn't the only person he'd ever wanted to leave a note before taking off.

Castiel was special.

"_Cas, you're so fucking pretty."_ Dean had said, almost absently.

"_You think so?"_ Castiel could put so much into three simple words, so much more than anyone else Dean had ever met, and those three words weren't even considered the important ones.

Castiel was special, and not just in general but _to_ him. Castiel was special to him.

"Dean?" Sam broke his train of thought like an unfinished track.

"What?"

"Where are we going?"

Dean glanced over at Sam in half annoyance before looking ahead. They were in someone's neck of the woods, he realized, because there were several rough looking individuals ahead of them. "Think we ought to say hi or go around?" He muttered with a laugh, Sam probably glared at him but Dean didn't really care to look. One of the people ahead of them was definitely leading the others; there were only two at his sides but the leader looked familiar. "Do we know that guy from somewhere?"

Sam squinted for a second and smirked, "Uh, yeah we do. You don't recognize him? He's a lot older."

Dean frowned even harder, extremely unimpressed with himself and trying to figure it out, even long after their company reached them. "Well I'll be damned, Winchester brothers basically at my front door?" An unforgettable grin met Dean's gaze and he wanted to smack himself.

"Jet, you son of a bitch." He laughed as he brought Impala around to stop at the other's side. "How have you been man?" They reached out to one another and exchanged a solid handshake.

"Overall pretty good, heard you an' Sam here got into some trouble the town over." Jet looked between them, his grin only getting bigger the more they looked guilty.

"There was a misunderstanding and a stupidly designed building, nothing to write home about." Dean tried to shrug it off, "How long have you been out here? Haven't seen you since we were barely learning to ride, before the Rough Riders and all that."

"No kidding, right? I packed up and moved on not much longer after you two were taken. The town was pretty much demolished, sad to say. It's been forever though, who's holding grudges?" The way he'd said it tipped Dean off to exactly that, all three of them would murder every one of those scumbags if they had the chance.

Sam cleared his throat, evidently he was upset with the conversation but he didn't want to drop it. "You see any of 'em since back then?"

"Well you two were abducted by them and I sure as hell looked," Jet furrowed his brow and shook his head, "But no," he tipped his hat and even glanced away, if Dean knew any better he'd say Jet was ashamed.

"Sam and I survived." Dean insisted with a smile, it was bitter and they all knew it but what did that matter? "It's good to see you again."

"Likewise, you two gotta come by for a drink." Jet gestured behind him by nodded his head back, granted his exterior was tough and a little tattered at the edges Dean could still see the warmth there.

"Breakfast would be nice too." Dean added, clicking his tongue to get Impala moving. As they rode Dean couldn't stop talking to his old friend, Jet used to be so epically amazing at everything he did and if Dean had to judge by the stories Jet had told on the way to his place, that hadn't changed.

They reached a place a few miles out of town, it looked like nothing at first, there were some shacks set up and some stables but nothing to really be impressed by. At least, not until Jet led them into one of the buildings. There was a staircase that led down into the earth like a cellar but at the bottom wasn't a tiny room. Not at all, Jet had taken the concept of support beams for the cellars and lower levels of houses and made it huge. There was a whole town below that shack, each person present was as tough and uncouth as the next, cutthroats if Dean had ever seen one. It was amazing.

"Well I'll be damned." He sighed in awe, reaching up to tilt his hat back a little. "You've got some set up here."

"We're kind of wanted criminals this side of the country." Jet shrugged like he was telling someone he'd bought eggs at the market. "That town you passed through a couple miles back knows me well, we've got mixed feelings about one another."

"How so?" Sam managed to untie his tongue long enough to ask.

"Well I only go in and get what I need, we pay of course but we're awful company." Jet smirked and waved at the guys that had accompanied him in the first place as they wandered off. "Bad tempered, quick to a fight, you know, me stuff. Thing is though when I first got here I took out the bandits that owned that town."

"So you took their place?" Dean raised an eyebrow, kind of amused at Jet's idea of doing good.

"Almost, difference is we pay for our shit. People might wind up shot more or less often as before but that's not my problem."

Dean was so happy to be back with his childhood friend, someone from his hometown, he wanted to talk about it, talk about everything and all the stories they could share. But he had questions that would absolutely not leave his head. "So… you've been here for a while, what do you know about the local tavern?"

"Love that place," Jet smiled and looked at him, "Folks aren't scared of a fight over there, at least not when they're smashed."

"And… what about the bartender?" Dean could have shouted 'I LIKE HIM' and it wouldn't have been as obvious, he was pretty sure. But Jet just pursed his lips, glanced toward the upper right side of his brain for a moment and shrugged again.

"Castiel Novak, you mean?"

"Yeah." Dean felt a shiver run down his spine at the mention of the name, his heartbeat had increased too but he didn't want to think about that.

"He's harmless enough, granted he has it in him to be quite the little firecracker but mostly he keeps a lid on it. I've seen him get mad before, I mean_ real_ mad, mad enough to punch someone and throw them out of his tavern. _That_ was the guy I wanted serving drinks, of course he regained his customer service face afterward but whatever. I know what he can do." Jet didn't hesitate to give Dean something; of course it was related to Castiel's ability, what he was able to physically do and whether or not he was a threat. Granted that information was always useful and often what someone was looking for, Dean couldn't say he wasn't surprised that he'd gotten it.

"Do you know much about… him? Like home life, hobbies, et cetera?"

Jet looked at him again and this time he knew he'd done it. It was all over his face and Jet couldn't have _not_ noticed. "You're sweet on this guy?"

The question was so neutral Dean didn't know what reaction he was about to get. It scared him, of course. It scared to hell and back but he was Dean Winchester, he was a lawman's nightmare and he wasn't scared of anything. So what did it matter? "I guess so."

Jet eyed him for a moment and he smirked, "You always were a weird one, Dean. I had no idea you fucked guys though, rumours are way off."

"He was the only one." Dean corrected immediately, in the process he gave more away than he'd intended at all.

"Aha, well I can tell you what I know but wouldn't it be better to ask him yourself, lover boy?" Jet was playing, teasing him and it was kind of nice to receive. Dean had seen so many people cower in his presence, scream and run, and even a few of them praised him for saving their son or cat or whatever he'd done for them. But being treated like some regular guy? Only Sam ever did that, it was pretty neat to get from someone else. Of course Dean wouldn't let just anyone do it, Jet was a special kind of someone.

Not like Cas though.

"You're probably right, let's talk about something else. How 'bout that drink?" He grinned as Jet lit up.

"Hell yeah, man, let's go."

"I'm kind of surprised you're not out at the caravan." Sam said as he followed suit.

"Yeah the Sheriff would be looking for guys like us," Jet glanced back at Sam, "I would go but I'll wait for later in the evening when the crowd's bigger, harder to spot me."

"Huh…" Sam trailed off; Dean could tell he was thinking that it was pretty clever for a group of thugs. Something Sam had apparently forgotten that Dean never could; Jet was always clever.

* * *

Castiel hummed softly as he rolled his head around, feeling the familiar brush of sheets he knew so well. His body felt loose and his mind free as he reached forward, touching the sheet beside him. It was empty. Cas let his hand wander; searching, but he found nothing but the edge of his mattress. He opened his eyes and sat up, a sting shooting up from his rear as he looked around. Dean wasn't there, had he ever been? The pain was real enough, a dull aching that made him groan as he pulled himself from the bed. Maybe the Winchesters had gone. He thought it might've happened but he'd hoped Dean would've stayed. _'Waking up side by side is a child's dream.'_ He told himself and brushed it off as best he could before he moved to his bathroom.

The water was cold and his limbs shook as he cleaned himself off, he lifted the basin over his head again and let it spill down his back. Stupid cowboy. He didn't mean that but all the same, stupid cowboy. Why would he leave? And then… why wouldn't he? Cas sighed and tilted his head back, whatever, he'd just go to the trader that day when they arrived and buy himself something nice.

Dean Winchester. The name played in his head over and over as he finished bathing, a cloth running down his backside to clean the last of the night's remnants. Dean Winchester, a name on his tongue, it burned and slipped from his lips like a whisper. He wanted him again, he wanted Dean's hands, his mouth, his dick-

"Novak!" Someone shouted from the front of the tavern, Cas recognized the voice and knew that the Sheriff was in to see him. Wonderful. Castiel winced as he pulled his pants on and walked out from his residence, shirt in hand.

"Yes sir?"

"I've heard the Winchesters are in town and they were here," Michael stood on the other side of the counter, one hand rested calmly on his pistol while the other dangled loosely at his side. It was fairly casual for someone who had just heard what he'd said. "Where are they now?"

Castiel shrugged and moved to lean on the wooden surface with a half smirk on his face, "Don't know. I'm fine, by the way, I survived the visit, thanks for asking."

Michael's face scrunched up a little, his lips pulled tight until he sighed and slumped his shoulders. "Mr. Novak, you've been in this town long as anyone else, you know I don't-"

"I know, I know. You don't ask stupid questions." Cas grinned at him; part of him hoped his strange way of walking had gone unnoticed by the Sheriff. "So, as you can see, I'm alright, they didn't cause trouble other than not paying for the room I gave 'em for the night. They are no longer here, gone before I woke up."

"Hm…" Michael touched his thumb to his chin and looked back out the door of the saloon. He was pretty; Cas had to hand it to him, but not his type. Lawmen weren't something he wanted to play with. "I thought they might've been here, the traders arrived hours ago and there hasn't been a sign of the brothers… Or our favourite outlaw, for that matter."

"Is Crowley heading this trading caravan?"

"Yes, he is, not that that matters a whole lot." Michael pursed his lips and turned back toward the door, "Well I'm sorry for bothering you then, Mr. Novak. Carry on."

"No problem, Sheriff." Castiel gave a neutral wave as the lawman exited. He dropped his head and sighed, wishing the ache in his body would wane at least a little. Dean had been amazing, truly the best he'd ever had and Cas wouldn't exchange the pain for anything if it meant he'd forget it.

Dean… Dean Winchester. Again he repeated the name and again he couldn't get those eyes out of his mind. And it hurt, not just physically but deep in his head he couldn't shake a sad feeling. Cas poured a shot from a nearly emptied whiskey bottle and downed it quick, he closed his eyes and let the burn seep down his throat, there was nothing he could do about Dean Winchester anymore.

After a short clean up of the tavern he put up the 'Be Back Later' sign and went out, if the caravan was in town he might as well go and get himself something nice, something to forget Dean Winchester, something to remove the ache and just let him be. Maybe there'd be a nice quilt to wrap himself in or a cowboy's hat he could stare at on his shelves but never truly wear.

He wasn't the only one who had the idea to hit up the caravan but most of the townsfolk were working, he'd at least avoided the big crowd. Cas walked up to the big displays and started looking things over, half ignoring people as they tried to oversell their merchandise. Some of it looked so foreign and weird, new inventions were a little beyond his comprehension. Why would he spend that much money on something he wasn't even sure he could use? It made no sense. Plus who would fix it when it broke down? That kind of caravan wasn't always around, it came by maybe twice a year if they were lucky. So Cas avoided the fancier things and went to look and see if he could replace some of his worn out tools.

He was pleasantly surprised to see the different types of alcohol they'd brought along, there was a lot of variety and he'd even been allowed to try a few since he was the local bartender. He'd be the guy they'd try and sell that to, why not give him a free sample? More likely to trust the product and buy it. And he did of course; Cas couldn't resist adding a few rare brews to his usual list. They'd cost a lot more than the usual but that's business.

As Castiel perused the wares he started to notice a faint rumbling. He looked toward the sound and saw something he never thought he would; it looked like a whole cavalry was charging toward them, all men on horseback and stampeding. Becky, the town's known gossip, bolted through the street, "_The Riders are coming! It's the Rough Riders!"_

Cas furrowed his brow, the cowboy hat he'd been considering buying still in his hands as so many people started to pack up and run. _'The Rough Riders?'_ He thought as his brain tried to focus on something to do. He'd heard so many things about that gang of brutes; they were merciless, terrible killers. The Winchester brothers were known as the most terrifying duo, cowboys, outlaws, gunslingers, but never monsters. Castiel found that his legs wouldn't move, not for several moments until he sprinted for his tavern, his home, a place he'd always known to be safe.

He didn't quite make it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:**

**Look! LOOK! An update o_O What is that? I don't know it's been so long. I'm so sorry. As some of you know school is taking its toll, plus living on my own and working 25 hours a week can make things even crazier. But hey, here we are with a new update! That deserves some good karma, right?**

**Anyway, thank you my wonderful readers, I love you guys. Please keep up the reviews, they really help me along!**

* * *

Castiel breathed heavily into the dirty rag pulled tight across his mouth, it wasn't much of a gag, it only stopped him from making sense when he spoke. And it dug into his skin but he tried not to think about that. He kept his eyes squeezed shut despite the blindfold already in place to do exactly that, his heart was pounding, his face wet from crying and his throat sore from shouting. It was terrifying, he was scared out of his mind and nothing seemed important anymore. Nothing in his life mattered, nothing he did ever reached anyone and it never would. Cas wanted to go home to the safety of his tavern, to crawl into his bed an pretend none of it had happened.

But he couldn't do that; much like a few others in his town he was bound and gagged and being dragged along behind the Rough Riders. Cas didn't know how many others were there with him; he had no idea whatsoever but that didn't change the fact that they were taken for a reason. He just didn't know what that reason was. From what he could hear the others were women, some of the younger, prettier ones. Girls he'd gone through some schooling with. Castiel didn't quite get it but what could he do? Ask them why they hadn't killed him with most of the other men in the town? Stupid idea.

It hurt, he could feel the burn of his skin as the friction became too much, the riders weren't going that fast, just a trot, but after an hour of that kind of treatment a person's body started to complain. Cas' had done more than that at least twenty minutes ago.

Part of him wanted to beg, plead, anything that might get them to stop but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Not because he was scared, not because his tongue was caught in his throat and he choked on his own terror. No, he didn't because of pride and energy conservation, because he knew it'd make no difference whether he cried like the others, as loud as they did, struggled as hard or if he didn't make a single sound or move a muscle. Cas knew he was stuck, knew that these men didn't take prisoners for fun, and the sure as fuck didn't keep them. He refused to die that way, pleading and begging for his life like some sad, pathetic little thing. He'd been that way his entire life, he was always taking the easy way, praying with the good folks of his town in church, buying just enough to support him and never any more. Couldn't take the risk he'd need that money for something else.

Couldn't take the risk.

There was no risk in where he was then; there was no risk involved with buying a few extra slabs of meat or bottles of wine. The worse he'd experience was getting to eat better one day and a little less on another. It was nothing close to trailing behind the Rough Riders. Men known for slaughtering anyone for looking at them funny, known to slit a man's throat or stab a woman with child right in the belly. Cas had heard more than enough rumours about the Rough Riders but the part that really drove it home, that part about the entire scenario that _honestly_ made him afraid was the fact that he'd never heard anything from someone who'd been there. Never once had someone stopped by and said 'I ran into the Rough Riders.' And that was because no one ever just 'ran into' them; they would never be able to walk away to talk about it.

For Castiel that was the scariest part, he'd always heard stories on just about everyone else; the Winchester tales were epic, sure they came across as ruthless and horrifyingly destructive but there were _stories_ about them. So many and from all over. People _lived through it_.

The dragging stopped, he felt the burn settle into his skin as he rested in the dirt, his limbs trembled and he felt the ache in his body from being in the same position for too long. His legs were tied together and his wrists bound ahead of him. There were loud voices rambling around him, yelling at one another but making no real sense from where he was. Cas' heart pounded in his ears as he tried to pay attention, they were talking about captives.

"What do you guys wanna do first?"

Cas swallowed hard and took a shuddered breath, he had to get himself together as best he could, to the highest point of pride he could muster; because that was probably going to be the last thing he did. From the sound of it though they were unpacking some things, the rest of the crew that had saddled the caravan's best goods and trading items were just riding up. _'We're at their campsite.'_ Cas told himself, just to put some perspective on where he was.

It had been some time since they'd exited the town but not all that much; they were still close enough for a rescue.

He almost laughed at himself for that. A rescue by who? Sheriff Michael? He'd just one-man-army his way into the neighbourhood and shoot up the entire Rough Rider gang, no problem whatsoever.

As he listened to the Riders unpack and set up he had to wonder more and more about it; why hadn't they killed him? Where had Sheriff Michael even been during the attack? The town was in ruins, bodies littered the streets, Castiel wanted to thank God that the Winchesters had gone. At least Dean was alive somewhere, even if their night meant nothing more than quick relief to the outlaw Castiel couldn't help the feeling he'd gotten from it.

Stupid Dean Winchester.

Suddenly he felt a harsh hand on him, yanking him upright and tearing the blindfold from his eyes. Castiel squinted and blinked repeatedly as he tried to get used to the amount of light forced upon him. An angry, battered face grinned down and he thought for the first time that he'd seen true evil. Hearing about it was nothing compared to seeing it, he had to truly face it to know the nightmare behind any story he'd ever heard.

"Hello, little cowboy." The man spoke and Cas knew it had to be the leader, that much he'd heard of. Alastair smiled wickedly and pinched his cheek, it hurt in the same way it would have if anyone else had done it but this man made it feel so much worse. "What's your name, son?"

Cas wanted to swallow himself alive and create a horrible space-time paradox of whether he was twice as big or disappeared completely, but he had no ability to do such a thing. Instead he looked the man straight in the face, thought of what Dean Winchester from all of his stories might do, and smiled right back, "Castiel." He never thought his name sounded like anything special but he spat it like venom anyway, what could he lose? He was already a dead man.

Alastair seemed impressed, a look of intrigue on his face as he squeezed Cas' cheeks, forcing his lips to push out and mouth to open, just a little. Cas took a haggard breath but didn't look away, if he was going to die he'd do it like his stories, they were all he had to cling to in that moment. "I like you, Castiel. Why do you think we kept you?" Alastair let go of his face and slapped his cheek.

"I look pretty?" Cas raised an eyebrow, he'd winced at the instant shock of pain but what did he care? Pain was pain and he assumed any man would react to a slap in the face.

Alastair laughed and it triggered everyone else, the roar of gruff and tortured men's laughter rumbled around him and only set his heart at a quicker pace. "You are a cute one, for a cowboy."

"I'm guessing you haven't seen the Winchesters, then." Cas remarked snarkily, mostly it was for himself though. He didn't care if they'd met Dean or Sam at all, but it was the last big revelation of his life and he wanted to reflect on that. The Winchesters weren't ugly, deformed men, they were gorgeous and that really changed Castiel's outlook. His endearment for the rumours of Dean Winchester changed so fast he'd gotten whiplash, the man had gone from a rough and terrible legend to such a beautiful mess.

"Not recently, but word is that you have, barkeep." Alastair ran a hand through Cas' hair, his fingers running close to his scalp over and over, messing up the already destroyed style he'd had. It was cold and it was wrong, Cas couldn't get any kind of reaction from that kind of touch. It was like when he got off with Crowley, the odd time the traders were in town with their mini-caravans. Castiel hated Crowley but he was the only man Cas had ever met that was interested in any form of homosexual relations. They'd done it every which way from Sunday but he'd never truly loved it, never ached for it other than the physical touch of another person. It was always so distant, cold and unloving. Alastair's hands were very similar in that way.

"They were in town, everyone saw them." Castiel replied, not letting his eyes shift from the monster's face. "Is that why you didn't kill me with the other men?"

"Sometimes…" Alastair leaned in close and smiled, his breath was awful and his face just made Castiel want to ram his head into the dirt, "you shouldn't question a good thing."

Cas frowned before his hair was gripped tightly, it pulled and it hurt enough to get him to scrunch up his face, his mouth falling open as he gasped sharply. Alastair dragged his head up and forced their mouths together, a slick and disgusting tongue slipped between his teeth. Castiel didn't think he just acted and bit down. The following seconds were a mixture of the iron taste he hated and a sharp pain in his stomach.

"Little firecracker, ain't ya?" Alastair chuckled, blood trickling down from the corners of his mouth as darkness encroached on Castiel's vision. "Feisty for a bartender."

Cas watched Alastair move a hand away from his stomach, his head feeling dizzy with the lack of air in his lungs. "You have no idea." He growled and that earned him another strike, this time his head was ringing and darkness closed in all over again. His brain screamed but his body wouldn't move, everything slowly shut down as consciousness faded.

Castiel never believed in miracles, he never imagined that a fantasy could truly become real but he couldn't help it that time. He hoped. He prayed. He thought;

'_Dean.'_

* * *

They were going to wait for evening, like Jet had mentioned it was better to hide in the larger crowd the big caravan would attract. Caravans went through that area often enough but they were always smaller, had much less to offer and worse quality things. Once every year or two years the big trading group would pass through, it was a combination of several successful businessmen making a group effort to combine their stock and travel around to all the major places, passing through smaller towns along the way. There was more variety in their goods and the items usually lasted longer. Granted the prices could skyrocket but that was just one bad thing for a whole whack of good.

It was also a great chance to steal for the outlaws, brigands and bandits roaming the areas. People like Jet planned out the scene, tried to make it perfect and strike when the time was right. He only took what he needed, paid for a lot of it but how could he really feel bad when half the guys he took from were criminals in the first place?

They sat together talking; the conversations had gone from stressful, personal stories to light-hearted stupid crap that really brightened the room, and everything in between. They were situated in one of the shacks outside Jet's hideout, sitting above ground like normal folk. Dean had just finished explaining what had happened in the last town, how genius the guy was to hide his dynamite under the floorboards, when he noticed a horse racing toward them.

"Hey, that one of your guys?" Dean asked as he pointed to the distant figure closing in fast.

Jet squinted for a second then rose to his feet, "No, that's the Sheriff." He grabbed his hat from the table and repositioned it over his head as he walked out; "You two stay put for a second."

Sam frowned and exchanged a look with Dean, "What would the Sheriff want here?"

"Jet's not exactly a saint, Sammy. Probably wants to tell him to stay away from the traders." Dean shrugged and looked back out, "Better stay inside and watch, see if it gets messy."

"Chevy and Impala are outside, I don't think the Sheriff is going to be fooled by the 'Winchesters aren't here' story." Sam snorted back at him, that little brother tone so clear to Dean.

"Well let's let Jet handle it for a second, okay?"

Jet walked to the edge of his acquired zone, his hands rested loosely on the hilts of his weapons as he watched the Sheriff's horse approach. It wasn't normal for Michael to go out that far, especially alone. Jet didn't flinch as Michael's steed slowed its pace and barely stopped in front of him, the horse shook its head and whinnied as if to challenge its obstacle. "Good afternoon, Sheriff, what brings you here?"

Michael looked down at him; expression went from the stern disapproval it always held to one of desperation. "The Rough Riders hit the town." He explained grimly and Jet could hear how hard it was for Michael to keep himself together. "Everyone's dead or missing, the Riders made off with the caravan."

His heart raced. _'The Rough Riders?'_

Jet stared at him for a second then threw his arms up in the air for lack of a better reaction. "And where the fuck were you, Mr. Protector!?"

"I was looking for the Winchesters!" Michael snapped back, his usual composure out the window. "I was concerned they'd do something and now… now it doesn't matter where they are…" Michael trailed off and looked down, his face a torrent of emotion that Jet had never seen there before.

"What do you need?" He asked after a moment passed, his own features softening though the rest of him did no such thing. Jet was an amazing diplomat when he wanted to be, when he needed to be. Manipulating people was too easy but that wasn't something he was known for, people rarely noticed when he did it. No, Jet was known for something closer to controlled insanity, a brutality that only came out when he lost his temper.

"I want to go after them," Michael was hesitant and his face was tired. "I need your help, Jet. You're the best tracker within a hundred miles, I need you to help me find them."

"What for? Revenge?"

"That's all I can do." Michael didn't falter, steel coloured eyes locked with dark brown in a moment where neither was certain of what the other was thinking. "There are a few people left, people who were in homes left alone, people who were working further out of the town like where I was. They're all missing family, they all need something that I think I can give them."

"I think you'll find you understand me a little better now." Jet said simply and nodded toward the shacks, "Come this way, there are some people I'd like you to meet."

Michael furrowed his brow but dismounted all the same, leading his horse to a post and tying him up. "Who am I meeting now?" He asked as he caught up to Jet's stride, evidently not one hundred percent sure he trusted the whole scenario, from what Jet could put together.

Dean and Sam both lit up with curiosity as the door opened, they hadn't heard the conversation outside but Jet's expression was more than enough to tell them they'd be interested. "What happened?" Dean got up as they entered.

"Rough Riders," Jet looked Dean right in the face as he said it.

Dean felt his stomach turn and his muscles tense with just the thought, "You're lying."

"He's not," Michael stepped inside as well, his eyes snapping back and forth between the brothers. "They massacred the trading area and stole the caravan."

"Is anyone alive?" Dean asked with only one face in mind, a flash of bright blue eyes seared the back of his eyelids every time he blinked.

"Some," the Sheriff took his hat off and ran a hand through dark hair, "A handful might have been kidnapped, their bodies are missing."

Dean didn't want to ask outright, he wanted to know but he couldn't ask. _'He might be dead and you can't ask?'_ His brain shouted at him but he didn't listen to it all the same. "Take us there, I need to see it."

Michael looked at him incredulously, "You… want to help?"

"The Rough Riders have a bit of a history with us," Sam smiled tightly; Dean knew that expression, the sound of Sam's tone. He was pissed, murderously so. The information he'd given Michael was more than enough, anyone with history with the Riders couldn't have anything more than homicidal thoughts on the subject.

"Well you're both alive, so that's something." Michael gave them a nod of admiration, "That's a miracle actually."

"Yeah well sometimes it doesn't feel like it." Dean muttered as he walked out, Sam right behind him.

They reached the town again, Dean and Sam ahead of Jet and the Sheriff. While their horses were the best of the best there was something to be said for watching the back of the pack, which was why Jet didn't attempt to race them there. On a good day he might've.

Dean slowed Impala down to a slow trot as he looked at the pulverized and burned buildings, but mostly the blood splattered over the streets. It was like reliving a nightmare that he'd tried to forget time and time again. "Never gets old, does it Sammy?"

Sam didn't respond, he just passed Dean by and moved on to look around at the slaughter. "Bodies are left where they fell, not the norm for the Riders."

"They usually pile them up." Jet added as he hopped off his horse and tied it to a post, "This isn't too different from what I remember last time."

"You were in Rough Rider attack before?" Michael looked at him inquisitively.

"Yeah, Dean, Sam and I are all from the same place." Jet answered casually like it was nothing important but Dean knew better, he could see it the way Jet walked, how he looked around.

Michael had more questions about their childhood, vague and mostly about the Riders but Jet and Sam handled the answers; Dean had more important things to look for. He rode to the caravan site directly, there were some town people trying to clean it up but they could hardly bring themselves to do it. No one wanted to move or do anything, it was too soon. There were, of course, the working men who knew better, knew that the bodies would start smelling and that work had to be done immediately. It was a horrific sight, there were so many people in pieces and blood everywhere. Footprints and horse prints alike making art in the smeared pools, people muddying up the masterpiece with their lifeless forms.

Dean passed them by and rode to the saloon, he didn't want to look at that anymore, didn't want to think that Castiel died in that of all things. "Cas!" He shouted as he jumped from Impala's back, running inside and throwing the doors open.

It was empty.

"Castiel?" He called again, this time sounding a bit more worried. "CAS!"

No answer.

"Goddamn it…" Dean ran around to the back where Cas lived, past the hall where they'd fucked and to the bedroom where they'd slept. He could still feel the warmth of Castiel next to him, the soft sigh of Cas' breathing and light tickle of that breath on his skin. The bedroom was empty too, the whole place was.

In fact it didn't even have a trail of blood. Castiel didn't die in the tavern where he'd lived. Dean ran back outside and galloped back to the men who moved the corpses. "Excuse me! Do you know Castiel?" He asked this time, he didn't care anymore, he wanted to see Cas.

The guy looked up and nodded, "Everyone knows Cas."

"Have you… have you seen his…" Dean motioned to the bodies, his tongue tied into knots in his mouth. He couldn't say it. Why did that bother him? He'd seen countless people die before but Cas? Castiel Novak, the little bartender that dreamed of bigger things, things he'd heard of in stories, like an adventure, and things he'd never say out loud, like a real lover. Castiel Novak, smiling and laughing at the legends in real life. Cas, a man who showed more compassion in a single night than Dean had ever been given in his entire life.

Beautiful. Have you seen his eyes when they light up as a story is told? Have you seen how big he can smile when a terrible joke is made but he still thinks it's funny? Have you seen the way he walks and carries himself?

Dead. Have you seen his corpse? Have you seen him bleeding out on the ground? Have you seen him, frozen and broken? Have you seen him? _Have you seen him?_

"No, no sign of Cas." The guy shook his head, "Not that I've noticed anyway."

Dean nodded and moved on to the next person, and the next and the next until he was satisfied. No one had seen Castiel.

"He's one of the ones that was kidnapped, maybe?" Sam looked at Dean as he approached his brother's side. "Alastair takes men once in a while, not that often but sometimes."

Dean nodded, "Well we'd know that, wouldn't we?" he could feel his blood boiling. Castiel at that maniac's mercy, the thought of it made him wretch. "So we find them, gut them, and take back the people who were abducted."


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:**

**You guys have all been so lovely you don't even know. Thank you so much for reading this so far, it's still not over yet (like I had expected) but it shouldn't last more than 2 more chapters at the most. Anyway please review, even if this has long been posted I still get the emails and I read every single one. **

**Love you guys! Happy Hallowe'en of 2013, here's my treat for you**

* * *

_Castiel sighed softly and nestled in the familiarity of his sheets, his body heavy and his eyes refused to open. He knew the press of the mattress on his back, the smooth warmth of his blankets over his bare chest, and the awkward shift in his pillow every time he angled his head a different way. He was home but it felt like it was missing something._

_His brow furrowed briefly before a rough, heated hand touched his chest and drifted down his abdomen, skin sliding on skin in the most delicate way a man's hand could be. Cas relaxed again, that was better. He felt the bed dip and though he couldn't open his eyes just yet he knew the presence that loomed over him._

"_Dean," He whispered and smiled when soft lips pressed to his. Castiel opened his mouth and deepened the kiss, he tasted Dean again and it made his mouth water. That was all he wanted, he just wanted to wake up, sleepy and unwilling to move with Dean beside him. _

"_You gotta wake up, Cas." Dean kissed him again; a free hand pushed through his hair and fingers started to dig. Castiel flinched, it hurt a little but Dean's touches hadn't ever been that soft. _

"_Not so hard," Cas muttered when Dean did it again. _

"_That's not me." _

_Cas' forehead crinkled and he scrunched up his face. That wasn't Dean touching his head? He sniffed a couple times and realized he couldn't smell anything, and if he could it wasn't something he knew. "Dean…" He murmured again, this time he felt all familiarity leave him. "Am I dreaming?"_

"_Yeah, baby. Sorry."_

Castiel opened his eyes slowly; he blinked carefully and took in the immediate surroundings. It was a very dim room, there was a bit of light pouring in from cracks in the walls but that was about it. Cas could hear the soft sounds of crying around him, a shuffle of clothing and other such noises that people generally made. He inhaled gently to make sure his breathing hadn't been disrupted after the punch to his gut, it was fine though a bit sore. He was disappointed, not because he wasn't at home but because Dean wasn't there with him, they weren't kissing and they weren't about to fuck. He was cold and alone, other than the people present. But then, if he had been right earlier, they were all women and he was pretty much alone in _that_ regard.

It was funny, actually. He'd been telling himself just the other day how he'd settle for being kidnapped, as long as he was taken away from that town. Weird how actually experiencing it could change someone's mind.

"Where are we?" Cas asked quietly, he didn't want to spook anyone but it didn't seem to help, there was still the sound of startled voices.

"We're on a train." The first to speak up was someone he recognized, he looked over to see Jo Harvelle tied up close by. "Basically like cargo, the goods from the caravan are in here too."

"A train?" He squinted at her as if she'd just spoken Spanish to him, his voice sounded like he'd swallowed gravel. "How far did we go?"

"Far enough. I think they hijacked it before they hit town, maybe that's how they got to us without anyone knowing anything about it." She leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes. Jo had always been one of the tougher girls in town, kind of unpopular because of that but Castiel didn't care one way or the other. Really he liked her tenacity, if anyone had the nerve to go out into the world and do things it was Jo Harvelle, much like her mother. He'd especially loved to share his stories with her and her best friend, Pamela. They really listened when he talked, they could hear how enthralled he was with the ideas of cowboys and their lifestyle, and they didn't make fun of him for it. Yeah, he was the dreamer of the town, he would talk more than anyone else if given the chance but he could always count on Jo and Pamela to listen. The three of them were good friends, they went to school together, grew up together, and though their work didn't often cross paths they would still see one another. Jo and Pamela were the two people that Castiel really ever hung out with.

"They took over a train to get to the trading caravan while it was stopped in a less populated place, easier to take everything and kill the people witnessing it." Speak of the devil; Pamela Barnes was sitting just behind Jo, almost out of sight from his angle on the floor. "How's your head, Cas?"

"It's sore," He muttered with a soft laugh, "Who's all here?"

"All girls from town, other than you." Jo furrowed her brow as she looked down at their blue-eyed friend. "Wondering why you're here, actually."

"I'm pretty." He replied and smiled over at her. They chuckled at him, everyone had been blindfolded but they all heard his conversation before being knocked out the second time. "Are you alright?"

"We're fine, so far." Pamela lifted her hands and moved a hair out of her face, "They're kinda dumb though, tying our arms up in front of us like this."

"No one said they were known for intelligence, Pam." Jo grinned at her, "But yeah, you're right."

Castiel sighed and looked up at the ceiling of the train car, "Can't be that dumb, you guys haven't gotten out of them yet, what do they have to worry about?"

"It's probably because they don't think we're a threat." Bela pointed out from across the car, her legs tucked in close to her chest, as best she could do. She'd always been kinda flexible; Cas figured she could do anything really. "We're a bunch of women, what can we do?" She was mocking, Cas could hear it in her tone but all the same she made a good point; they weren't all that scary. Him included, of course. He was the strange little dreaming bartender, that maybe occasionally threw a punch and tossed people out by their pants, but otherwise totally harmless. Castiel wasn't scary, his name especially wasn't scary and there was no kind of reputation that could hide how goofy he'd been in the past.

No one said anything, Castiel couldn't believe it. That was it, they didn't know why they were in a train but they knew that they wouldn't survive to see another free day. That was how he was going to die, tied down in a train car.

"We're going to die, aren't we?" Jo asked softly and looked around at the other women.

"Yeah." Castiel responded first, no emotion in his tone as he stared at the ceiling. "We probably will." He forced himself up, abdomen doing all the work for him. "But that's why we'll show them."

"Show them what?" Pamela asked with some cynicism in her voice. "How well we die?"

"No, show them what we can do, why they shouldn't brush us off so easily." He had nothing else; at least he could make his last moments an adventure. If he could do something epic before being shot in the face he could die a happy man. He wriggled until he could sit up, his face dead set on what he was saying. "We can be the legend, we can be _their_ nightmares for once, just _once_. I want them scared. They see frightened little people with no hopes and no dreams left in them. I see so much more than that, I can see how strong you all are, I know it. I want to see an animal in you, show them your ferocity, damn it! They can't do this to us!"

"But they are," Naomi spoke up this time, her face pulled as tight as ever, eyes always cold and calculating, but this time Cas could see her fear. It was there, flickering and fighting with the courage he knew she had. "They're doing this to us and I think if we stay put and quiet they might let us live."

"With what dignity?" Castiel spat, he had no idea he'd had that kind of speech in him, that kind of mentality.

"Not all of us have nothing to live for, Castiel. Some of us have families." Naomi argued, and it was true, some of the women there had homes, husbands, children, and pets to go back to. Castiel had an old building with nothing more than junk, but it might as well have been entirely empty.

His mouth pulled tight and thin as he held eye contact with her, the intensity in his expression didn't leave him. "I understand that and I think that is something worth considering. But let me tell you all something, I know you know me as the dreamer in the tavern, living with my head in the clouds and all that, but I need you to listen to me now. I have heard at least one story about every outlaw worth knowing in this country, every single one; except the Rough Riders. There are no stories only rumours and assumptions, you want to know why?" Castiel looked at all the faces staring back him, some of them were neutral, some were terrified, and a few held the same determination he was displaying. "It's because no one lives."

"But they took us prisoner," One of the younger girls argued, Charlie was her name and another closer person in Cas' life. "That has to count for something, right?"

"We're entertainment until they're tired of us, either we'll be incorporated into their group somehow, which happens less often than being set free, or we'll have our throats cut." Castiel explained quietly, he didn't know where the Riders were exactly. "So our options are to either die quietly and let them do with us as they please or raise a little hell."

"How do you know all this if you've never heard stories?" Jo asked and it was sort of playful but he figured she really meant it.

"I'm going off the assumptions at this point," Cas looked at her before he started to fight with his bindings. "But that doesn't mean it's any less valid, no survivors means no one lives, meaning it doesn't matter how they kill you because you end up not breathing anyway."

"So you want to die faster?" Naomi just wouldn't let it go.

"Yes." Castiel stopped and remained quiet to let that sink in, "We're all dead, there's no chance of escape if we do nothing. If we try something, if we fight our hardest they'll have no choice but to shoot us from a distance. The way I see it my death will either be quicker, less painful, and less degrading, or I'm going to get out of here. I don't see the downside."

The women didn't reply as he struggled, no one moved for several seconds until Charlie started to do the same as Castiel.

"Charlie?" Naomi looked at her in surprise, "What are you doing?"

"Cas is right," Charlie looked up at them matter-of-factly. Cas loved her for that; she was so smart and mostly self-taught. A little naïve like himself but in that innocent kind of way, like life hadn't occurred to her yet. At the same time she knew when it was time to buckle down and get shit done. "If I'm going to die anyway I might as well do it my way."

"Damn straight." Pamela nodded and looked for a way to get the rope off.

Castiel smiled when he saw how many of the ten or so women involved were willing to join him, all willing to help each other out of the confines of their ropes. "Right, let's get this shit off."

* * *

Dean and Sam rode side by side this time taking up the middle as Michael covered their backs and Jet tracked the Rough Riders' movement. He was good at it; Dean would definitely admit that if asked. Jet had been a good kid the last time they'd seen one another, but then again life had a way of dragging a person down.

"Any way of knowing how far?" He called ahead and Jet shook his immediately.

"No but we can assume that with all the things they took they're moving a lot slower. My only worry is the train."

The Winchesters exchanged a look, "What train?" Sam asked.

"There are tracks running through this area not too far from here and the trail our nightmare is leaving suggests that's where they're headed." Jet glanced back, his brow furrowed and eyes squinted.

Michael's eyes widened, "The train? I'd heard it hadn't made it to its next scheduled location, do you think they took it over?"

"Makes sense," Sam and Dean held one another's gaze again, they always knew the same information and it didn't matter who really said it. Dean would prefer to do the talking but he was pretty sure that Sam would have his head sooner or later if he tried that each time. "The Rough Riders were rumoured to have a base hundreds of miles from here, Dean and I have looked for it but never found it. Point is to get that much loot from here to there would be a long and risky trip."

"Why not just hit the caravan when it gets closer?" Michael looked between the three outlaws he was working with. It had been a stretch to ask anyone else from the town to help out and really no one was willing. Dean thought it funny that a lawman was stuck with people he assumed to be delinquents at best.

"Because the big traders started on the other side of the country and most of the good stuff would be bought." Dean answered him before Sam had the chance, "Alastair's probably got his eye on something in particular and why not take the whole lot while he was at it? Typical."

It was a long trip, they couldn't run the whole way but they'd definitely closed the gap between the Rough Riders and themselves. Dean and Sam were careful to let Chevy and Impala walk, catch their breath. Jet remained at the head of the group, back straight and head up; he was alert and watched just about everything that moved. Dean had the feeling they were getting close, the sun was setting and the further they moved the more antsy Jet seemed to be.

"Jet," Dean rode up to his friend's side, "What's wrong?"

"You don't feel it?" Jet looked at him, his expression hard to read. Dean's brow creased but he looked ahead the way Jet had been doing, thinking maybe that'd help.

"Not sure what I'm supposed to be feeling." He could hear his heart beating, he could almost smell Castiel's scent somehow still lodged in his nose.

"That rumble… I think they're already on the train." Jet muttered. "C'mon, let's move it."

Dean didn't hesitate; if Cas was there he was on that train and about to be taken very far away from him. _'Not if I have anything to say about it.'_

They bolted, sprinting to the next clearing where Dean could see the train; it was maybe a mile away from where they'd emerged but it was slowly taking off.

"Son of a _bitch!"_ He shouted and pushed his baby as hard as he could, he had to get to Castiel.

Fighting the Rough Riders was one thing; it was the darkest part of his past and the worst thing that ever came up in his nightmares. But Dean didn't let nightmares rule his life and he didn't live by the past's demanding hands, and Sam didn't either. They cringed when it came up, they knew it was painful to think of but those moments when they were boys could never define the men they had become.

Castiel was different. Cas was the irregular heartbeat in Dean's ever day life, that part of him that was missing. Castiel represented a different future than his past suggested for him.

And Castiel was getting away.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note:**

**Sorry for the late update guys! I hope you're still all enjoying and I've been getting some amazing reviews so that helps a lot. I think there'll be one more chapter after this one so let's enjoy the last of the ride from here on out, shall we? Thank you again for reading, I love you guys! Please keep the love coming, I really enjoy your commentary :D**

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Castiel held his breath when he felt the train shutter; the awful grinding sound rang in his ears like a banshee's scream. _'We're moving…'_ he thought dismally to himself, everyone was almost free but it wasn't fast enough despite Bela's amazing skill. She had surprised them all; she'd dislocated her wrist in a way that had Naomi nearly throwing up and another girl, Rachel, almost fainted. But despite that Bela was the first one free, wrist popped back into place and ready to help out the next trapped girl.

"Where'd you learn that?" Pamela had asked her right after, a look of amazement on her face.

"None of you know where I came from before moving to town, do you?" Bela had smiled at them but Cas felt something was wrong with it. There was so much more to her story than she'd ever told anyone. That girl showed up in men's clothes, barely said a word to anyone and just settled down on the outskirts of the town. Castiel had gotten the opportunity to speak with her at the market or with the other small trading caravans, but she never went to the bar. He didn't really blame any of the girls for not stopping there; it was an awful place for women sometimes. Hell, it could be an awful place for men too.

As the last of the ropes hit the floor Castiel moved over to the train car's door. He leaned against it and peered through the small window, just to see what was expecting them on the other side. It was cargo; there was one man on either side of the boxcar and neither looked to be paying very close attention. "Okay," He whispered now, he had no intention of letting those burly men know they were all free. His heart raced and his mind moved even faster than he thought possible, he recalled as many different tales as he could, which circumstance would help and what happened.

There was nothing that came to mind, nothing that quite fit his problem, but over and over he remembered stories of the Winchesters. They were never painted in a particularly amazing light but he'd always seen the strength they carried, and now that he had met them at least once he could feel it better. Dean never the situation get to him, he held what was important close and took care of that; in his case it was always Sam, Chevy, and Impala. For Castiel there were a few more but that was fine, he could do that. But then it occurred to him, did he plan to lose?

No one _plans_ to lose. It just happens.

"There are two guys in the car over, it's got a bunch of things the caravan was carrying so I think it's safe to assume they've put most of their eggs in one basket." He explained out loud for himself first, the others second. It helped align his thoughts to say it, like that was a way to somehow ground his mind in one spot and organize everything else.

"Okay, what's the idea then? Just run in and bash their heads open?" Jo knelt next to him, her face surprisingly ok with that idea.

They really had accepted that they were going to die anyway. He had, he thought so anyway, believed that they would never make it out alive. But to see that same feeling in someone else's face? It was strange, so strange to see a girl he'd grown up with look like she was willing to just let go of it all. That took strength, he told himself, but was it strength or cowardice? It didn't matter now; these were his final moments and if he wanted to make the most of them then he'd have to fight for his life. Make a decent story to be told.

"Well yes, but I think we need to be more subtle if we want to make an impression." Cas smirked at her before he turned back toward the door. "Let's make him come in here."

Pamela's lips spread in that smile Cas always thought was beautiful, she had so much strength and determination and clearly a wild streak. "Cas I don't know what happened to you but I kinda like it."

The guards stood quietly, neither was much for talking and what was the point really? They practically lived together anyway; nothing the other guy did was very secretive or hidden from his brother in arms. No, being quiet was the best way to go.

And then there was the shrill cry from the captive car. Both men looked at one another, it hadn't been that loud but it didn't sound comfortable. They silently decided that checking it out was better than arriving back home and seeing a bunch of dead bodies. The first guy rammed his fist against the door, "What's the racket?"

"_Help!"_ One of the other women cried out and there was a bunch of noise past the door. He peered inside the small window but that car had barely any light in it. He could see their figures, one or two sprawled out on the floor, it didn't look good.

He grunted and walked in with his weapon drawn, his partner chuckled at his misfortune but did no more than that as he watched the door close.

The guard squinted in the dark and opened his mouth to speak but he wasn't nearly quick enough. Pamela practically punched the pistol from his hand and across to Castiel. His catch wasn't perfect but the amount of time fumbling the thing took was; the guard lurched toward him and had to stop when the cold steel touched under his chin.

"Don't move," Cas growled at him, eyes fixed and steady on the other man's. Their prison guard complied and remained still, clearly he had more to live for than any of them. It was a strange little standoff; Cas had never been in such a situation where he could kill a man with the twitch of a finger. And while he intended to shed blood he didn't want to give it away to the whole train, not yet. "I think we both understand what happens next, don't we?"

There was a moment that they shared, it was so quiet other than the slow rumble of the train as it picked up speed and it only got heavier the longer it lasted. Castiel kept the gun to the man's head as he leaned in closer; his hand trailed down to the knife hooked into his victim's belt and slowly drew it. Cas surprised himself during the entire scenario; he'd kept eye contact and felt no remorse for what he was about to do. He thought for sure that he'd feel sick at the thought of taking another's life but he knew better than that. This man had killed hundreds of people; young children among them, Castiel didn't think he'd be able to live with himself if he let the guy go.

It cut into the criminal's throat so easily, Cas wasn't quite prepared for the warmth of his victim's blood to cover his hand and pour down his forearm. There was a bit of a whimper from someone else in the train car but Cas couldn't hear past the awkward drowning gasp. He grit his teeth and forced the man down, his hand used to try and muffle the gargled sound. In moments it was over and he could feel himself shaking, tears burned his eyes but he wasn't sure he even felt sad for this man.

No. He _was_ sad for this man, someone so broken and lost that taking a life was even possible. That's what he was now. That's what every story he'd ever enjoyed carried in it and finally he understood what made a legend. It wasn't glorious; it wasn't fantastical and exciting all the time. For someone to become what Dean Winchester was, what Sam was, hell, even what Jet and his crew were, they had to be at the very end of their rope.

"You okay, Cas?" Pamela put a hand on his shoulder and he nodded without hesitation.

"I'm just really sorry for the life this man led."

"You're too kind, Castiel." Bela huffed a soft laugh and knelt down to search the guy for any other weapons. He had another knife strapped to one ankle and a smaller gun on the other, and a few rounds for the pistol Cas had taken from him. "Who wants the knife?" She asked and looked to the other girls. "I'm keeping the gun."

"I'll take it." Charlie volunteered though her voice was a tad shaky. "I can handle it."

"The fact that you had to say that makes me nervous," Jo muttered but didn't object. "Cas you want to hold both the gun and blade?"

Castiel shook his head, "No, actually I'll hold onto the knife for now." He handed the pistol to Jo, if anyone could stomach shooting someone else in the face it was her. "The first few kills need to be quieter so we can make some progress out of this car. The next guy's going to come looking for his partner, I'll take care of him since they don't seem to be all that bright and after that we have to find a way to get off this train safely."

"It's moving and already picked up a lot of speed, Cas, how are we supposed to do that?" Naomi questioned him. He could hear in her voice that she didn't intend to try and challenge his idea, but instead she only wanted answers. That was fine, though he hadn't thought far enough to give one to her.

"We'll figure that part out if we make it there, alright?"

They collectively took a deep breath and exchanged a quick glance among themselves, what was coming next would define the remainder of their lives. Castiel's lips quirked up in a half smile to offer some support for the others, to his surprise they returned it. "We're right behind you, Castiel." Anna was the one to speak this time; he hadn't seen her until they were all untied and free. Their relationship was more complicated than anything else but that was something neither of them thought important in that time. What good were old grudges and bad blood when it came to life and death?

"Thank you." Part of him wanted to keep talking and give them a speech but he'd already done that. As well, right then was the deciding factor of whether or not he would _become_ the legend or just re-tell another story as the same man he'd always been. It was time to change that. Enough talking.

Cas peered through the window again, his brow furrowed as he watched the other guard. The man was slowly becoming aware of the fact that his partner hadn't returned yet, not to mention the strange sounds Cas knew he must have heard. Only moments passed before he called out, "Hey! What's going on in there?"

No one answered him, they remained as quiet as possible. Cas ducked beside the door and motioned for his friends to do the same. They stayed put and listened to the approaching footsteps, it was starting to eat away at Castiel's nerves how drawn out it was. The door handle flinched then turned and right in front of him a head appeared. The marauder was quick to notice Castiel but it wasn't enough to save his life. His gun-hand flailed upward but he didn't have the brain capacity through his own panic to pull the trigger. Cas had cut deeper that time; his own fear shocked him when they'd made eye contact and he panicked just as hard as the other man.

Two people's blood ran together down his hands, one caked on top of the other's. Cas tried to wipe it off on his pants but it didn't make much of a difference. "Let's go." He said as he passed out that man's weapons to the others. He'd had rope tied around his hip like some cowboys did, Castiel wasn't sure if it was meant to tie them all together if they got rowdy or what but he knew that it didn't matter anymore because it was his now. He mimicked the other man's set up and started to hurry along the length of the other car.

"Should we take any of the trader's stuff?" Pamela asked softly as she moved closer to some of the boxes, "Might come in handy."

"If you find something useful grab it but I don't want to spend a lot of time in here." Cas went to the door and carefully peered through the window. He liked that the designers included windows on the doors between cars, it was good for the everyday train life but in that moment he couldn't have been more grateful. The next car wasn't connected the same way theirs had been, they would have to go outside and cross over the coupling point to get to the next one. _'Maybe we can use something in here to jump off with…'_ He turned back to look at the items around them, no one said they had to go all the way to the front of the train, right?

"New idea, find something that might help break our fall when we jump off this thing." He instructed and hurried to another pile of merchandise, hoping to maybe see something soft or at least durable.

Now, while Castiel would have argued it was a great idea, if he could have re-done that part of his day he'd change a few things. The first and probably most important thing he would have done differently was placing someone by the door to keep an eye out. Sadly his hindsight was 20/20.

"HEY! What the fuck is going on in here?" A rough and uncivilized tone met his ears and made his blood run cold. As ready as he said he was to die he really wasn't, that realization dawned on him in those few seconds as shots rang out in the train car. He snapped his head up to look at Bela and Jo who had both shot before asking questions. It was better that way; no one could have gotten close enough for a silent kill and that meant none of them were shot. Yes it was better that way, except the other killers were definitely on approach.

"Okay, new idea number two, let's grab whatever works and get the hell out of here." He moved to the door, "I'll stand guard you guys get what you can." Cas went and picked the gun off their newest victim and tossed any remaining weapon to the last of the girls without one. He could feel his legs shaking and it made him think for a second time that day that the whole legendary story thing wasn't all he imagined. Making the stories was so different than telling them.

The door was still open from the last guy's arrival and more men were running across the train car over, weapons drawn as they charged. Cas felt his stomach drop as he lifted the pistol, his mind slipped from him as he aimed, his hands as steady as they'd ever been. This was it; he pulled the trigger and the men dropped, very few made it as far as they would have hoped and some even fell during their leap across the gap. Castiel felt the spray of their blood for those first few seconds before they grew wise and took cover. He breathed again for the first time since the initial shot and closed the door, ducking down to reload his gun from the bullets off the corpse at his feet.

"When did that sweet little bartender turn into this?" Pamela chuckled as she crept up to the other side of the door, what looked like a durable, heavy coat covered her body.

"When he got kidnapped." Cas smiled at her, "That's for jumping off in?"

"You got it, but I have a bad feeling we won't be able to do this with those guys shooting at us."

Castiel looked back out the window for a second before he dropped down again, "Yeah it's getting ugly over there…" _'How the hell are we supposed to do this? We were so close…'_

The thunder of what he thought would be the start of the final gunfire of his life cracked through the air but no bullets shattered the train car's wood. In fact the guns sounded different than the general types he'd noticed on the Rough Riders. A chorus of shouting echoed loud as the assault didn't stop, but again there were no shots fired their way. Castiel waited until it stopped before he looked up again, this time to see two figures alone on the other car, bodies lined at their feet. They were both tall but one of them was massive; and Castiel knew exactly who they were.

"Winchesters." He breathed with a soft laugh. "DEAN!" He shouted and watched the one darkened figure startle then rush to the light between the cars.

"Cas! Are you okay?" Dean's expression was so fierce and terrifyingly in character to the horror stories Castiel knew so well. But it was for his benefit, he thought it rather beautiful.

"I'm fine, Dean." Castiel felt tears in his eyes as relief and hope washed through him, but he wanted to stay strong. He'd been strong that far he didn't need to show Dean any more reason to abandon him, no reason to leave him in the morning. He was strong and worth every effort to keep him at Dean's side, he had to prove that. "There's a bunch of us in here, we need to get off-"

More shouting interrupted him and then a massive explosion further up the train, far enough that Cas had a feeling it had something to do with the engine. Sam had to be the other body in that car and after a moment of gunning down more arriving bandits, he moved to Dean's side by the gap. "The last three cars are all merchandise from the traders," he explained quickly, continuously glancing back to check for intruders. "If we uncouple them here the kidnap victims will be safe along with pretty much all of the gear."

"Won't work that way," Dean shook his head and looked back at the girls behind Castiel for a second before he settled his vision on the blue-eyed tavern keeper. "There's too much momentum now, the train car's not gonna stop in time."

"In time for what?" Cas looked between them nervously.

"Michael," Dean pointed toward where the train would end up following, "He took a shortcut to the train station up there to get some stuff. They're going to de-rail this bitch."

Cas looked across the landscape, it was true that the train did more of an arcing motion through the area, which made it possible to be faster cutting straight through on horseback. "How much time do we have?"

"Don't know," Sam admitted and looked back toward the door, his arm snapped up and Cas flinched at the sound of his gun. He could act as used to it as he wanted but that didn't make it true. "Uncoupling the cars will make it easier to jump off though so we'll need someone to stay here and do that."

Dean nodded and motioned toward the front of the train, "You go help Jet, I'll get these guys out of here."

"Jet's here?" Cas asked in surprise, he hadn't expected the renegade from the outskirts of their town would have anything to do with this fiasco.

Sam nodded at his brother and took off without another word; they knew what they were doing. Cas looked at Dean for a moment, his heart fluttered in his chest as the cowboy moved to take care of the train car attachment. "Dean…" he felt the words catch in his throat and they hurt, they burned him because he wanted to ask why he'd left. _'Now isn't the time.'_ He reminded himself as Dean glanced up.

"Yeah?"

"Do you need help?" Cas went for something a little simpler instead, they didn't have a lot of time for deep discussions, or annoying ones for that matter. Dean smiled at him as another explosion rocked the train and gunfire rained further ahead. Although the situation he stood in was entirely chaotic and should have scared him half to death Castiel felt more at ease than he had all day. Dean's smile was so perfect.

"Yeah, give me a hand here."


End file.
